A Conundrum Worth Solving
by Killer of Kings
Summary: Sherlock Holmes creates a time machine, and travels to the year 2014, where he finds his best friends lone surviving heir. Emma Watson. So this isn't exactly Harry Potter, but try it out, tell me what you think. Oh, and since Holmes has been gone for the past 101 years, they solve a bunch of cases that actually happened(like Kurt Cobain's "suicide") but most may be things I make up
1. Chapter 1

**So this isn't exactly a Harry Potter meets Sherlock Holmes (the movie with Robert Downey Jr.) basically Holmes travels to the future, 2014 to be exact, and finds his best friends lone surviving heir, Emma Watson. I got this idea from a picture I found on Google. Also, this has nothing to do with Emma Watson's real life, though there may be some Potter references...okay there definitely will be references. Hope you guys enjoy it, please leave a review, and let me know if it gets to lovey-dovey later on.**

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Chapter 1  
"The year is 1913, the precise date is August 7, a Thursday. Our location is- Watson are you writing this down or not?" Sherlock Holmes, who prior to being interrupted by Watson light snoring was leisurely pacing. "Really John, this is quite unacceptable." Seeing as Watson would not wake, Sherlock decided to give his old friend a good scare. Hoisting up his walking stick, until it no longer touched the floor, Sherlock flamboyantly struck the armrest of Watson's chair. Nearly missing his knuckles. Waking with quite a jolt, Watson demanded sternly. "Good god man, are you trying to kill me of fright?!" Sherlock simply smiled at his friend, "Of course not, I was _trying_ to break your hand. Seems I missed." Watson was about to interrupt but Sherlock simply held up his hand and continued. "And seeing as you won't let me test the machine on Gladstone, you would at least write for me, and pay attention. Here I am making history, and here you are _napping_." Watson, rubbing the bridge of his nose, began to contradict Sherlock. "_You_ are making history? I thought we had a barter system, meaning as you so rightfully put it a fortnight ago, everything is shared. Even my clothes I might add!" Holmes only looked taken a back for a sliver of a second, before he began countering Watson's contradiction. "Our bartering system only applies to trivial things obviously. But this-" He gestured to the looming block of metal and gears beside him. "This is me, making history and _you_ taking notes." Sighing, quite loudly, Watson picked up his pen and motioned for Sherlock to continue. "Now where was I? Oh, yes our location. Our location is Apartment 221B Baxter Street, London, England. The subject- really I don't know why we can't use Gladstone he would love it." Watson rolled his eyes, still scribbling on the paper when he argued "First off, you've killed my dog twice, and now you're insistent on wanting to send him through that damn machine. We don't even know exactly what it will end up doing. Besides Gladstone is my dog." Holmes was astonished with his friends argument, unaware that John knew of his dog being killed...twice. "Our dog. And besides I did not technically kill him twice, seeing as he is still walking about. Really John how could I harm _our_ dog." Sherlock gestured to the currently sleeping dog, who barely managed a yawn. "Just continue Holmes, we are not sending Gladstone, and you pulled out rock, and I paper, you lost." Sherlock, ridiculing the simple hand game said to Watson. "You know ever since your little trip to Asia you've been completely obsessed with it. I've begun to think it jinxed, seeing as I always lose." Watson, not wanting another banter with Holmes tried to hold his tongue, but failed quite miserably. "You know Holmes." He said while twirling the pen in his hand, seeing as he had finished taking _notes._ "The reason you always lose is because you are predictable. You always choose rock. I've begun to think that you sense the rock as stability in your life, and choose to always rely on it."  
Sherlock, loving the soft banter, said to Watson. "The day I become predictable, is the day I lie in my grave, furthermore, since when did you become a therapist? I was under the impression you were a_ real_ doctor." Before Watson could even begin another argument, Sherlock proceeded."Now enough of this banter let's get back to work. Let's see what you have written down."  
_Date: August 7th 1913; Thursday_  
_Location: Apartment 221B Baxter Street, London_  
_Subjects Name: Sherlock Holmes_  
_Age: 26_  
_Height: 5 9"_  
_Weight: 147 pounds_  
_Food and Water intake: Almost normal_  
_Drug intake: Only when mind is bored_  
_Level of annoyance: 10 out of 10_  
"Oh, well aren't you a funny one. I weigh 146 pounds, you added an extra pound. Also I am 6 1" other then that good. Let's begin shall we?"  
Sherlock, making sure the machine was hooked up correctly, stepped inside. The machine was a gigantic metal monster, with many gears and wires. So many wires, that neither men had noticed that Gladstone had somehow managed to unplug one. Though you may think one plug wouldn't make much of a difference this did. Seeing as it was supposed to be plugged into the wall.  
"Well, Watson, its been nice knowing you, lets just hope this damn thing does what I think it does!"  
Sherlock gave his friend one last smile and shut the looming door, and began pushing in the date, and then the date he would be traveling to.  
He entered into the machine._  
From here: Aug. 7, 1913_  
_To here: Feb. 8, 2014  
_

"Lets just hope, the future will be enough to stimulate my mind." Sherlock whispered this to himself and pushed the button that would send him on the adventure of a lifetime.

Watson meanwhile, was intriugued by the utter lack of noise coming from the machine. Standing up and walking toward the machine, careful not to step on Gladstone. "You still there Holmes? Did it work?" Watson yelled, so his voice wouldn't be muffled in case his friend in fact did not travel through time. Cautiously, Watson began to open the heavy metal door.  
"Holmes!" Watson, his heart beating quickly for fear of his friend, who was sitting on the small floor in the machine his knees were up against his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. He was rocking and mumbling madly. "Tick tock, not a clock."  
"Holmes for once in your sorry life speak like a normal human being!" Watson was getting nervous, thinking the machine had fried his brain or to himself, "God why didn't I just let him send the damned dog. Holmes, come along, we have to get you out of this contraption." Struggling, Watson began to help his friend out of the machine, and into the chair. With Sherlock now sitting in the chair, Watson was trying to get him to stop spouting nonsense. "Holmes, would you just-" Watson was cut short, mainly because he was roaming the cluttered apartment trying to find *something* to get his friend to stop this odd tick ticking mantra. "God, I am a doctor, and I can't even tell what is wrong with Holmes...scratch that, no one knows whats wrong with him." Still digging around and moving papers, Watson frantically yelled for the landlady. "Mrs. Hudson! Has Sherlock left you any...alcohol maybe? Or narcotics? I need it quite urgently!" Mrs. Hudson began to reply, but Watson wasn't listening, seeing as Sherlock was beginning to come back from himself.

"Watson, did you know that I am a complete failure. I didn't, until a few mere moments ago." Watson stumbling around boxes and furniture and clothes, walked up to his friend. Sherlock was gazing off into the distance, his eyes glassed over, and his voice held no emotion. "Holmes, are you all right my friend? What happened in there?" Watson's eyes traveled to the machine in curiosity, but went back to Holmes face as he began to talk in the same emotionless way. "Well, if you must know nothing happened. Didn't you hear me I am a failure. I'll never get the damned thing to work. I will be stuck here with only drugs and boring cases too stimulate my mind. I should just put a bullet in my head now, lest I want to go completely mad... I figured building this damned thing would help calm me, but alas it only makes my mind crave more."

Watson was shocked with this bold statement, seeing as he never knew of Sherlock's suicidal thoughts nor his insistent need to build the machine. "Holmes, come now, we just need to find you a new case then you will feel right as rain." Watson was saying this mainly to calm himself down, and to get his mind off the thoughts of his friend commuting suicide, so he reached over the table behind him and began to shuffle through letters quite quickly. "Ah! How about this Lady Radford reports her emerald bracelet has gone missing." Sherlock looked up at his friend sitting in the chair next to him in amusement saying as if he read it from the morning paper. "Insurance swindle. Lord Radford likes fast women and slow ponies." Mrs. Hudson, having just walked in carrying tea, distracting Holmes and having interrupted Watson, Holmes said "There's only one case that intrigues me at present. The curious case of Mrs. Hudson, the absentee landlady. I've been studying her comings and goings and they appear most... _sinister_."  
To which Mrs. Hudson replied normally "Tea, Mr. Holmes?"

"Is it poisoned, _Nanny_?" Both confident and filled with almost motherly concern Mrs. Hudson replied. "There's enough of that in you already." And as Mrs. Hudson began to clear a space for the tea, Sherlock snapped quickly "Don't touch! Everything is in its proper place, as per usual... _Nanny_."  
And Mrs. Hudson giving up on trying to serve tea, went back down stairs.  
"Holmes, I-" Watson was cut short, seeing as Sherlock had just fired a gun into the wall.

"Where did you get that may I ask? I thought I told Mrs. Hudson to be rid of the armory." Sherlock smiled cunningly.

"Well, you did tell her, but you are forgetting that I am, well, me. In case you were wondering it was hidden in the fireplace. But as of recently I've kept it strapped to my side."  
Watson looked at the gun in disbelief, and very childlike tried to snatch it from Holmes hands.  
Holmes, standing up now, held it over his head taunting Watson. "You were just going to badger me about leaving my rooms, so I fired a gun, no need to get all grabby about it."  
Watson, seeing it pointless to try jumping for the gun, simply stood in front of Holmes and asked sternly. "Holmes, is that the gun you planned to kill yourself with?" Sherlock smiling at his friend sadly, grabbed his pipe and began smoking, while he paced around the room again. "It is the gun I plan to use, not planned, seeing as it may happen quite soon. You know Watson, I really can't stand it much longer, my mind is constantly moving and making connections, sometimes I cannot even completely understand them. The drugs used to help, same with the cases, but now... I believe my only savior from myself is a machine I can't even get to work."

Sherlock smiled again sadly, almost as if he couldn't bear the thought of putting a bullet in his head, but knowing it was one of the few ways out. Watson, who didn't really want to be hearing about his friends suicidal thoughts, who kept trying to wake himself up, hoping it is all just a dream said to him. "Sherlock Holmes, I cannot, and will not let you commit suicide. Come along let's get this damned thing working."

Both men worked until the late hours of night or the early morning hours. Depending on how you look at it. They spent that time, fixing imaginary problems, and testing the machine many times. Near the end of the night, or the beginning of the morning Holmes spoke. His voice was clear and leveled, and it sent a shiver down Watson's spine. Holmes said to Watson calmly...

"Watson, there is no point as I have told you many times just go home to Mary and your unborn kin, I am a failure when it comes to taking away pain in the sense of time travel." Grabbing the gun from his side, Holmes raised the barrel to his temple, and before Watson could protest, he pulled the trigger.

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**NOTE: This is not the end for dear Mr. Holmes, the next chapter should be up soon. Check out my other work A Pirates Wish while you wait!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the wait! I was meaning to get this out a lot sooner then I did but first I just wanted to clear up a few things. I forgot to mention this in the last chapter, I based Sherlock's age off of when the Sherlock stories were created (1887) meaning in 1913 he would be 26. Also thank you so much for the reviews and the followers! I have to say I feel very accomplished because of it. So thank you. Also, I'm sort of winging this as I go and I'm just using notes on my phone so there may be a few mistakes so if you see any call me out on them. Thank you again guys, really appreciate it. **

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Chapter 2  
"I took the bullets out when you were digging through the wires, I'm surprised you didn't notice the slight change in weight." Sherlock, still holding the gun up to his temple, pulled the trigger one last time. A hollow click, not the expected bang, but a simple click and then the gears moving to the next slot was all the noise that the gun had made. "Watson, _must_ you ruin everything? I just want to escape this pain." Watson, not wanting to here his friend complain any longer about his pain of being a genius said harshly. "Please Holmes, your acting like a child. I'm not giving up yet and neither should you, I mean good god man, look at what you have created! And you want to what? Just give up and put a bullet in your head?!"  
Holmes sat down forcefully in his chair, it screeched against the wooden floors under his weight. "Dear John, you just- hello whats this? Your missing a piece." Holmes distracting himself looked toward the machine. Mainly he was looking at the flux capacitor, which was missing its connection plug into the wall. "Watson! I've done it! We didn't see it sooner because of all the wires that were in the way. The flux capacitor wasn't properly connected!" Both men began searching the room like mad, trying to find the missing wire, "How could you have missed this Holmes? Too busy complaining about all that brain power I presume?" Watson chuckled and Sherlock shoved him into the wall. "Oh, shush up now and keep looking, it has to be here somewhere."

"This is complete bollocks, I know it was connected when we started. Maybe-" Sherlock stopped short, seeing as Gladstone had just sneezed behind him. Sharing a look with Watson, they both turned slowly, suspicion in there eyes. "It was our damned dog! Why I bet he ate it, told you he'd be jealous of me using the machine first." Watson rolled his eyes, and started looking around the dog. "He couldn't have eaten it entirely, he may have chewed it a bit though...Ah here it is! He was hiding it." Sherlock who was still upset with the dog murmured under his breath venomously. "Hid it under his rolls of fat no doubt. Little shite." Speaking louder now, Holmes continued. "Watson come now, I believe we've waited long enough without your dilly dallying." Snatching the wire from Watson's hands, Sherlock smiled and practically skipped over the wires to the flux capacitor. "Watson, now that it seems I may become the very first known time traveler. I figured if I should meet your future kin, that you should pass this down the family line." Sherlock produced a silver ring, it was plain and simple, like a wedding band. "Get busy living, or get busying dying." Watson read it off the band and smiled at his friend. "Terrific Holmes, just what I needed a ring to give to my snotty children." Clearly kidding Watson chuckled, then becoming serious again said, "I guess this is it then? You won't attempt suicide again will you?" Smiling again, Holmes said encouragingly. "I don't think I will need to any longer old friend. Well, Watson it's been nice knowing you, take care of Gladstone." The friends embraced for the last time, and Holmes whispered one last thing to Watson and climbed into the machine. "Take care of yourself Holmes." Shutting the machines door for the last time, Sherlock then checked to see the dates hadn't changed.

Sherlock Holmes pressed the button again, and this time there was plenty of noise and plenty of spark. He was now the worlds first known time traveler.

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Sherlock feeling rather dizzy, sat on the floor of the machine once more and waited for the awful spinning to stop. Eventually, it began to slow down then it stopped with a jolt. "Well, here I go." Opening the door slowly, not even know where he was in the World, he called out a soft "Hello?" It seemed to him at least that he was still in his apartment, calling out again he said. "Watson? Are you here? Did it not work again? Watson?" Cautiously crawling out of the machine Sherlock got a good look around. "This is definitely my apartment...except none of these things seem to be mine nor Watson's...strange." Standing up, Holmes began looking around, there were ropes around certain things in the room, as if it was against the rules to go near them. The place didn't even look like it was lived in, the things were there just to make it look pretty. "Um, sir? You are not allowed to be in here now, I'll have to ask you to leave." Turning around Sherlock faced a young woman. Her hair was in a tight bun and she was wearing a professional dress. "Of course Madame, but if you could answer me one question, what is the date?" The woman thinking it a bit strange for this man to be in her place of work so early in the morning answered him. "February 8th, its Saturday... Now sir-" Sherlock interrupted her saying sternly. "No. No, the year. What is the_ year_?" The woman, obviously thinking the man was crazy, and extremely rude answered him. "2014, now sir, you really must leave or I will have to call the police." Sherlock smiled, and pranced out the door, the woman was holding open for him.

"I actually did it." Walking down a slightly familiar street, Sherlock Holmes began to whistle. Taking in all the new and exciting things, especially the people. Woman of his age had always, shown very little of anything, well except for cleavage. But the women he was passing now were wearing hardly anything, and some of the men were dressed the same as the women. Some even had green or pink hair. Sherlock couldn't help but stare at each exciting person that passed by him.

He stopped one woman, who had bright red hair, and piercings in her face, she was wearing what only Sherlock could call underwear, mainly because he could see her brassiere through her thin shirt. "Excuse me Madame, but could you help me locate the nearest library."  
The woman, looked around for a bit, as if she could see through the buildings and said to him. "Uh, no, but there is a book shop down the street, sorry I couldn't help more." Then she was off in the opposite direction. "Thank you!" Holmes called after her, and he started walking in the way she had directed him. Whistling Sherlock, seemed well, happy. He even had a slight skip in his step. He had only walked a few more blocks before he found the bookshop the girl had been talking about. Walking in he heard, a bell chime when he opened the door and then the voice of an old man from the back. "Hold on one moment, be right out!" Sherlock began to look around, finding many books that seemed out of his world. Astrophysics, Human Anatomy, The Work of Modern day Medicine, even some that seemed to be fantasy caught his eye, Harry Potter, The Name of the Wind and even Lord of the Rings. Grabbing as many books as he could carry, Sherlock headed to the front desk. The shop owner having just appeared looked very feeble, but smiled when he saw Sherlock carrying almost a dozen books toward him. "Just some light reading?" The shop owner joked and Sherlock smiled, "I guess you could say that, I've recently...well, I've realized recently that I need more books in my life and here I am." The shop keeper nodded and began to ring up Sherlock's orders. "Tell me, whats with the getup? Are you an actor or something?" The shop owner asked while smiling kindly. "I, uh, well no. Just some antiques I found in the attic the other day...so what do I owe you?" The shop keeper was about to answer, when a brute man entered. "Be with you in a moment sir." The brute, obviously didn't want to wait any longer, and pulled a gun. Addressing the shop owner the brute said harshly "Give me everything in the register or your brain will paint the walls." The old man, his hands trembling, began to compile with the brutes orders. Sherlock however was thinking up a way to stop the brute.

_Head cocked to the left, partial deafness in ear: first point of attack. Two: throat; paralyze vocal chords, stop scream. Three: got to be a heavy drinker, floating rib to the liver. Four: finally, drag in left leg, fist to patella. Summary prognosis: unconscious in ninety seconds, martial efficacy quarter of an hour at best. Full faculty recovery: unlikely._

Then in quick succession Holmes finished the brute off as stated a few mere moments ago. "There we are. And so the charge was?" Holmes looked expectantly at the shocked owner and he mumbled to Holmes. "150 pounds, t-thank you sir." Handing the shop owner his money, Holmes grabbed his books, and stepped on the brute on his way out the door. Unaware of the fact that the shop owner had indeed tripped the silent alarm to inform the police of the robbery, and the police running down the street, saw Holmes leaving the store, thought he was the thief and tackled him to the ground. Handcuffing him on the spot. "Well, I must say, you gents have the wrong man, but superb timing. The brute who tried his hand at stealing is in the shop." The police obviously confused, hoisted up Sherlock to his feet. "And, why the blazes should we believe you?" The police man had a very nasally voice, it was extremely annoying to Holmes, who was tired of being in handcuffs. So he decided to fix his annoying situation. Since there were only two police men Sherlock figured the odds were slightly in his favor, especially since the officers had rightly put his hands behind his back, well, it only made it more fun.

_First, distract targets, drop my books on their toes. Second, well obviously the need for my hands round front is quite great. Third, both men grabbing for the books, perfect, wrap my arms around both their heads, and bringing their heads together. Both men dazed, and noses bleeding. Fourth, men are both kneeling on the ground, obviously it's time to crack a few ribs...ah, but first keys. Hands free, time for some real damage. Box officer number ones ears and pull his hand back, in an extremely painful position, and snap his wrist. Number two will then receive a fractured jaw along with fingers, crushed under my boots. In summary: Two noses, broken. Each has their share of both bruised and broken ribs, and one fractured jaw, fractured fingers and a broken wrist, along with temporary hearing loss. Physical Recovery: Six weeks. Full psychological recovery: They may ask for desk jobs, almost a pity. Ability to handcuff an innocent man: Terminated._

A crowd had gathered during the few moments it took to have both officers on the ground moaning, Holmes ignored them and picked up his books, heading toward the phone box down the street. "Well, first day as a time traveler was...interesting. Let's just hope Watson's kin can be found in the directory."


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, I have been suffering from MAJOR writing blockage. It really is terrible and this chapter is no where near as long as I wanted it but I figured you would rather have a short chapter then no chapter. Also if any of you are fans of Fight Club, you may notice a Marla Singer- I do not own her I am just borrowing her along with most of the other characters...also I wasn't even planning on the whole Marla thing but it just came to me as I was writing... so without further ado here you are lovely people! Please leave me a review! I really do LOVE them- I also love criticism!**

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Chapter 3:  
Sherlock had been flipping in the yellow pages for a few minutes, looking for the name Watson, he had found a few...and by a few I mean 50. Thinking to himself,"This may not even work, his kin could be anywhere...hell he might not even have any." Sighing, Holmes checked the time, it was almost ten in the morning "Being a time traveler certainly can get exhausting." He had mumbled this to himself, then closed the directory and headed out of the phone box. Noticing the swarm of people, along with a few police men down the street, Holmes turned on his heel and walked away from the lot of them. Looking for, god he didn't even know what.

A half hour later of walking he found a cafe a couple of streets over from the book shop. Walking in he was greeted by strange silver devices that glowed and clicked, almost everyone in the cafe had one. Mindlessly tapping letters and drinking caffeine. There were tall tables, accompanied by stools, and two big sofas lining opposite cafe was painted with greens, and bright colors decorated the entire place. Behind the counter were big coffee machines and a couple of zoned out workers. Ordering a small cup of tea and a few biscuits he sat down on the sofa nearest to counter and began to read. He read the all of the books quickly, completely absorbing everything he read. He had just turned to the 16th chapter in Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone, when he noticed out if the corner of his eye, a young woman.

Her dark hair and make up contrasted with her pale skin, her high cheek bones gave her the appearance of being malnourished. And her petite body made the raggedy dress she had on seem like a tent. And to top it all off she had a cigarette dangling from her pouty lips. She daintily grabbed the cigarette with black, albeit chipped nails, and formed her lips into a perfect 'O', staring right at Holmes, she breathed out the smoke in an almost seductive way. Holmes was captivated by this odd woman. Before he could even close his book she appeared, practically sitting right on top of him. Sherlock, particularly disgusted with the way the woman was acting towards him said rudely. "And chambermaids were once such a liberal breed. May I ask, what the bloody hell do you think your doing?" The woman pouted, but stopped pressing herself to Holmes, she sighed dramatically. _"Well, I guess you could call me Marla Singer, and in case that big brain of yours can't figure it out I might as well tell you."_ Curiosity most definitely peeked, Sherlock gave her an impatient look and a quick roll of his wrist, motioning for her to continue. She teased him thoroughly saying in a falsely sweet-song voice. "_Don't get all huffy now, let's see..."_ Her voice drawled in an almost menacing way, and her eyes glinted with pure mischief. Her eyes and lips could no longer contain a completely hidden laughter and it leaked into her voice. _"Once there was a young man, who thought he was clever, when in reality, his mind made him suffer. And so without a case he turned towards drugs, but when that undoubtedly failed he wound up here. With an imaginary friend to boot. Does that answer your question sweet cheeks?"_ Her lips curved into a sinister smile. _"I know everything you know, And strangely enough you know everything I know. You see in your- I mean our- kind of situation, when the brain cannot truly cope with its surroundings, let's just say you get me. But seeing as you know everything I know, well I'm just repeating old information."_ Sherlock to say in least amount of words was dumbfounded, he was lucky enough to find his voice. "So, you and I are the same person, is that what you're saying? And if we are what you say, then why are you a woman?" Marla laughed, it was high pitched and sounded quite maniacal as her laughter quieted she said in a sultry voice. _"Well hon, I guess you could say I'm your feminine side... Deep down, you're really just a whore."_

Sherlock didn't really know what was happening around him, the only thing he was aware of was Marla. She had her thin, bony fingers wrapped around his wrist and she was leading him all over London's streets. Though, to the passing by standards it appeared that Holmes was well, completely insane. Running about with his arm held out in front of him, while his legs tripped and stumbled over the pavement. He wasn't sure where Marla was taking him, but he didn't protest. Truly he was just transfixed by the fact that his brain, could not cope with this new world. He couldn't help but smile as he stumbled down the street.

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**So obviously my shortest chapter thus far. But please, tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sherlock never realized how random his mind -rather his imaginary friend could be. Darting back and forth across the streets, running into some shops only to stay there for a few moments before Marla dragged him back out again. It was quite exhilarating, though it did make Holmes question his state of insanity, but he didn't question it for long. "Miss..." Sherlock trailed off not remembering her name. _"Singer, but you're special so you can call me Marla." _She popped her gum that Sherlock wasn't aware she had. "Fine. Marla, do you intend to drag me around, all over Great Britain?" She rolled her shoulders back in what Holmes figured was a shrug. Sighing, he went along with it, it was fun to let his mind run free. Literally.

"Oh god. I'm sorry, I just completely ran you over there didn't I? Here let me help." Sherlock, having just ran over an innocent women was frantic. She spat at him, in one of the most venomous ways she could have. "You know, running around like a complete tit helps no one. Pay attention to where you are going you prat." Quickly gathering her fallen things she left Sherlock where he stood. Completely baffled, with Marla still tugging on his sleeve, he pulled his arm from Marla's grasp and irritated, hissed at her. "Would you stop. Didn't you notice what was around her neck, you incompetent women." Marla began to pout, in a way a woman would when she just wanted to play, but wasn't given what she wanted. "_Lockey, you must really be losing it." _Her voice was filled with false pity, she continued trying to convince Holmes of not having seen anything. "_There was nothing there. You really are just imagining things. Even me."_ She began to laugh but was cut short when Holmes began to scream at her. "No. No! It was there, you know that. You...you are just trying to keep me from her. You know just as well as I who she is." Sherlock ran his hand through his hair, not realizing how his anger was affecting his movements. With his hair now standing up at all angles and yelling at nothing, well, he looked rather mad. "I may have fallen down the rabbit hole further then intended. But. I will not let a sinister wench tell me I didn't see what I saw." Running away from Marla, Sherlock began to chase the girl. The girl, who to him didn't even have a name yet. Though obviously Marla, his mind, wasn't going to make this easy for him. The real question here was why. Why at this once chance of being able to understand was his mind rebelling him? Why did running after the girl become one of the hardest things he has ever done? His mind battling against it self, well, it hurt like hell especially with a twittering Marla screaming and running around him, laughing at his misery, and his will to continue. She screeched at him, "_Let it go Lockey, if you continue this blather you'll be hauled into an asylum. Conceal, your crazy and DON'T fight me! Because you see I will always win." _Sherlock was now even more determined to fight his sinister mind. His hands entangled in his hair, practically pulling it out of his scalp, he ran after the girl.

Now, dear reader, I would like you to imagine this for a moment, so you can truly understand how broken Holmes mind is. Imagine a full grown man. Hands clasped in his hair, elbows jutted out, running full speed down London's streets screaming at himself. That is Holmes. And well, the girl, she didn't need to imagine Holmes, seeing as he was chasing her. Which was why Holmes, for the first time ever, experienced pepper spray. Blinded and eyes screaming at him, Holmes fell to his knees moaning in pain and agony. "Please, girl are you- your necklace, the ring. Are you related to a John Watson?" Pulling at her ankles, Sherlock was weeping from the pain in his eyes. Trying to hold on to the girl, hoping that she was related to him. He just needed answers, to understand. He didn't want to be in the dark about this world he knew practically nothing about. So obviously it surprised him when the girl asked him quietly, and almost disbelievingly

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

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**So this is EXTREMELY short, the next should be longer. But I have to say I am disappointed with myself, none of these chapters seem to match up with the first one. This, in truth is much harder to write. So please give me some reviews. I need to know how much I suck and/ or don't suck. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**All right guys, I have recently been Sherlocked. Which means I finished watching the BBC television show of Sherlock in a matter of two days. So for you other fanatics you may notice I have crossed the streams a bit. (Dialogue from the tv show) i mainly did this because I am in love with the show and it helps me get a better feel for the character. And also, this has nothing to do with Emma Watson's real life I am basically just using the name and her looks and her connection to the Potter movies. So any way enjoy and leave me a review!**

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"You're Sherlock Holmes aren't you? Well, are you going to just sit there? Answer!" The girl was getting a bit demanding and it only seemed to make Sherlock more sarcastic. "Well, pardon me it's not like I didn't just get sprayed with gods unholy piss. I can't even see. But since your so inclined to know I am Sherlock Holmes. And you darling, must be one of Watson's brats, yes?" The girl slapped him, as if the mace wasn't enough. "Names Emma. Emma Watson, follow me, might as well let you know what you have missed." Grabbing him by the shirt cuff, just as Marla did mere minutes ago, she directed him back towards the street corner. All the while, Sherlock was attempting to look around for Marla, knowing it wouldn't be good if she decided to show up. "You must live close by, seeing as you didn't grab that taxi. Oh, what a pity, smoker yes? Surprised I didn't notice sooner. All this madness has made my mind quite confused. But don't you worry, I expect I'll be right as rain quite soon. Then you and I will really have some fun." Emma seemed to tense up a bit at the word fun. Then quite rudely said. "Grandad really had a hell of a lot to put up with didn't he?"

"Yes. I assume he did. I also assume you will learn to love me just as he did. How did you know who I am? John must have left you more then the ring, that much I have presumed." Walking along side by side, Emma had her arm wrapped around Sherlock since he could barely see, she decide to let a small smile slip as she answered. "Your not wrong. He left journals my dad and I even added to them for you to read, and photo albums, he even left some of your things. You know, my dad and I began to think Grandad was just insane. We didn't think you would actually show up. Turns out we were wrong."

_"Damn right you were wrong. Incompetent girl. Lockey, you don't want her, come on let's play."_ Marla. Doing his best to ignore his own imagination Sherlock began asking Emma many, many questions. "Watson darling, do you have any idea when I will regain my vision? It's quite important for my line of work. In fact, I would love to have that water in your bag right about now, oh and while your at it I wouldn't mind some chocolate."

"Well, I...how did you...oh never mind here. Take it. But hurry up, we are almost at my flat." Dowsing his eyes with the water, Sherlock was finally regaining some of his vision and his eyes weren't burning as badly. He even saws that Marla had left, which was remarkable. And oddly surprising and a bit worrisome.

"Sherlock, might I ask, how were you able to get it to work? Grandad wrote a bit about it, but I don't think even he knew how you got it to work." Sherlock smiled and gave a light chuckle, "Well of course he didn't, I never told him. I knew he wouldn't be able to figure it out for himself. But you my dear, well, why should I give away my greatest discovery? If you want to know, just think. You may get it eventually." Sherlock ended his little speech with a sly smile and tilt of his head towards her. And Emma, annoyed with him, let go of his arm and began to unlock the door into her flat.

"Emma, do you mind if I call you Emma? John preferred just the surname, but your name, you first name that is. Is quite lovely." Walking in through the door Holmes took in his surroundings. By the looks of things she lived alone, but had a spare room. The flat was open and had only one bathroom, the kitchen was decent and in the living room there was a couch and two chairs near the small fireplace. She was tidy, almost too tidy. By the looks of things she smoked outside, probably in the garden, seeing as there weren't any cigarette buds nor ash trays near the front door. She also liked to cook, he gathered that from the many books in the kitchen, not even counting the ones on the shelves in the living room. Answering his question as she closed and locked the door behind herself Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. "You can call me whatever you like, but I would prefer Emma."

Dropping his own books, Sherlock began to walk around the flat, watching the way Emma stared at him as he did so. "Alright then Emma, you were an only child weren't you? Had plenty of cousins though, John and Mary really got to it on the family didn't they?" chuckling he continued observing her and her home, he would have observed her sooner, but its difficult when temporarily blinded. "Sherlock,-" interrupting her, by holding up his hand, he said "Please, just call me Holmes, John did sometimes." "Alright then, Holmes, do you want to see the journals? Or photo albums?" Clapping his hands together in almost giddy way he smiled. Emma could see most of his teeth, it was almost gruesome. "Of course. Bring them here, I'll take the journals first." Landing roughly on the couch, Sherlock waited for her to move to get the journals, and ushering her to retrieve them he flicked his hands towards her.

"Well, come now I didn't travel through time for you to be as slow as possible."

Now, reading the first journal, he looked up at Emma upon reading the first page with tears in his eyes. "He started the day I left. He didn't even know if I was dead or not and he wrote in this every single day didn't he? Oh of course he did. Can you take me to see him?" Emma smiled sadly, and sat down next to Sherlock, placing her hand on his shoulder. "He died in 1967. My dad was only 25, he was 80 years old. I'm sorry Sherlock."

"Dammit all to hell. I should have known. I don't even know why I asked. I knew he would be dead. I traveled too far." Sherlock closed the journal roughly and began to pace around the room. He angrily rubbed at his eyes, and nose. Then sat down forcefully next to Emma on the sofa, producing heart racking sobs into her shoulder for his friend who died 47 years ago. "He shouldn't have left me. I shouldn't have left him. He saved me did you know that? He saved my life many times from other people. And once from myself. He was brave. And a much better man then myself. God dammit all. I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But you see?"

Holding up his shaking hands and his face in distraught, Sherlock continued.

"Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grease on the lenses. The fly in the ointment. Disgusting really. Odd... Marla isn't here. She seems to make herself more known when I am at my worst..."

Soon, Sherlock began to ramble less and relax, he fell asleep soon afterwards with his head still rested in Emma's lap. It was then that she let her silent tears escape into his brown and curled locks of hair. She was worried, and she cared about Sherlock. She had been told about him her entire life and she finally got to meet him, and the first thing she did was mace him. And so, she cried for a man she just met, she cried for the broken man, and the man she unintentionally maced, stroking his hair softly as he slept. Mumbling one question to herself "Marla?" She soon followed him into sleep.

A few months later. April 12, to be exact.

"Holmes! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? And if you even think of blaming it on 'Marla' I swear to God I'll cut off your thumbs." Holmes froze at the sound of Emma's batshit crazy voice. He looked around quickly for a place to hide when he heard the door to his room open. He scrunched up his face and closed his eyes. Hoping it would make him invisible, even though it was a completely childish hope. Turning slowly towards the open door, half naked from the waist down. All he wore was his white shirt, it wasn't even buttoned up, he smiled sheepishly but showed no move to cover up.

"Ah, Watson. Just getting home then?"

Folding his hands behind his back he began to rock back and forth on his heels, humming to himself and looking around the room, glancing guiltily at Emma as he did. "I see you got new lipstick, looks good on you, oh, hear anything interesting today?" Sherlock began to chuckle softly, until the laughter faded into the abyss that is Emma's eyes. "Sherlock. Why are you naked?Actually, I don't want to know the answer to that. In fact I would love to know the answer to this. Oh could you at least cover up?"

"Was that it? That was your big question? All right then, I can 'cover up' as you so rightfully put it but I won't, helps me think."

"Sherlock stop. Since when do you hand my number out to random people?"

"Ah, so that's what your so upset about? Good I thought it was something important. They are clients I suppose. I put your number in the papers. Figured I would need the work, and I would have found some myself if you let me get a, what were they called again? A computer, and so I put your number in the paper, with my name and skills. You can't expect me to twiddle my thumbs all day since I finally get the gist of this time period."  
Sherlock was about to continue his rant further when he heard a noise come for the kitchen.

"Oh, God please don't tell me you brought him home." He spoke in a harsh whisper.

Emma smiled curtly feigning innocence, "Why whatever do you mean Sherlock? I thought you loved it when Daniel came over?" Scoffing her, Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved to retrieve his pants, scowling at her as he did so. "Oh, yes _Daniel-_" Sherlock was cut short from speaking, while buttoning up his trousers, Daniel decided to show himself at Sherlock's door, standing just behind Emma. speaking in a mocking tone. "Just getting dressed then Sherlock? Tell me, is it easier for you to be a raging lunatic before or after masturbation?"  
"Oh, Daniel, please I'm begging you don't speak you lower the IQ of the entire street." Sherlock, then managed to slam his bedroom door in to both their faces, utterly annoyed.  
Daniels voice was undoubtedly muffled, but Sherlock could hear the annoyance that is Daniel clearly through the door. "Really Emma, do you really need that in a flatmate? I mean his is a psychopath!" Yelling his response through the door, hoping they could hear him from the kitchen "High-functioning Sociopath, do your research you tit!" Sherlock's day was now officially ruined. And to think this morning started off with an astounding idea to annoy the police proving how wrong they were through texts on a borrowed mobile. All because of a certain Daniel Radcliffe and his annoying habits and opinions his day was ruined. Sighing he sat on the bed and waited for Emma to come in and apologize for her terrible taste in friends. Though, Marla decided to show up instead.  
_"He does an absolutely brilliant impression of an idiot. Yeah?"_

"Oh no, not you again. I thought we were done with your games."

_"Lockey, you can never really get rid of me. I thought you knew that with all the research you did about our particular predicament. In order to get rid of me you have to get rid of your brilliance. Remember?"_

"Marla, please not know just. Go away."  
Marla pouted, but as Sherlock began to push her away with his mind she seemed to be in pain. And then she was gone. Sherlock sighed, glad to be rid of her. Buttoning up his shirt Sherlock, moved slowly, not really wanting to leave the room. But he needed to speak to Emma about the cases he so badly wanted to work on. As he reached for the door handle he just hoped Daniel would be gone. But of coursing hoping was pointless especially since he could distinctly hear two voices coming from the kitchen and could even smell Daniel's putrid cologne.

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**NOTE: DANIEL IS ONLY A COMPLETE JERK IN THE STORY. SEEING AS I HAVE NEVER MET THE MAN I HAVE NO IDEA IF HE IS BUT I HIGHLY DOUBT IT. ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO WITH EMMA'S REAL LIFE.**

**So its short, and the ending is crappy. But here it is. Please leave me a review it helps me write. I need some criticism, I feel like I am just botching this whole thing up.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**SPRING BREAK ROCKS! Man, this chapter was fun to write! I think I may even spruce up chapters 2,3 and 4...because those were complete crap in my opinion. In case you lot were wondering the song that Marla sings is Lithium by Nirvana. Anyway please leave a review!**

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"_Dear_ Daniel, have I ever mentioned to you that you are in fact the bane to my existence?" Sherlock smiled at his own remark as he entered the kitchen, leaning against the counter farthest from Daniel. Just because Sherlock hated the blubbering idiot, who was almost always too drunk to talk, didn't mean he couldn't be polite to the bloke. "Ah, so it's after masturbation when you are more prone to being a raving lunatic and a complete jackass." Daniel turned to Emma, smiling curtly, he continued in the most obnoxious way possible. "I knew it. So, Emma darling looks like you owe me dinner, I was thinking take away. Chinese?" Sherlock was confused that Emma would bet on something such as childish and idiotic as that, though he wasn't surprised, everyone loved the thrill of a bet. Emma gave Daniel a pseudo-smile, walking towards Sherlock she discreetly placed folded paper into his left front pocket while putting away plates in the cabinet beside him.

Looking back at Daniel, Sherlock saw, everything he did, and did not want to see, and so he decided he didn't feel like being polite anymore, he decided to be a complete high functioning sociopath, just for Dan. The tit needed to be put back in his place anyway. Clearing his throat, Sherlock looked at Daniel in an 'I know exactly what your planning' way.

"Daniel, tell me. When exactly were you planning on, banging Emma? It's quite obvious, and its extremely annoying how cocky you are about the whole thing. Ah, hit a nerve there didn't I? Back straight, chin held up high. Trying to match my eye level. It's quite funny, isn't it Watson?" Daniel immediately realized he was unconsciously following every movement Sherlock was explaining and stopped, threatening Sherlock with his eyes, but it only made the conversation, if you could call it that, more fun for Sherlock. "Oh, oh this is fun. Want to know how I knew? Crappy cologne and freshly shaven face, throw in some cheap and petty laughter, terrible flirting and there you have it. Plus there was the condom sticking out of your pocket ah, don't try hiding it now, and you look completely tortured wearing your pants, considering you just shaved down there as well. And then, there is Emma, who is pretending not to notice all the obvious facts, because she doesn't want to hurt you. How lovely. The whole thing is practically storybook. Well, except for the happy ending." Sherlock couldn't help but wink and giggle a bit at the sight of a embarrassed and squirming Daniel sitting in his kitchen.

"Sherlock!" Emma after a few silent moments, harshly hissed his name. Giving her an inquiring look, as if he had no idea he did anything wrong. "Danny, I'm sorry, don't mind him, why don't you go wait in the living room while I prepare the tea?" Daniel mumbled his reply and sourly left the kitchen, but before he got out of ear shot, Sherlock resentfully said. "Ten points from Gryffindor!"

"Sherlock! I knew I should have never shown you those movies! Do you really have no manners? I mean really, if you had even bothered to read the note..." Emma continued her ranting towards Sherlock, all hissing and threats and hand waving. But Sherlock was intrigued. The paper, the note as she put it. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket, completely ignoring Emma. His back still leaning up against the counter he unfolded it carelessly.

_Sherlock, I know of his intentions. Don't muck this up or I swear, Marla will be proud of what I do to you. He is my boyfriend after all. You could at least be a decent human being...for once._

Raising an eyebrow at the paper, Sherlock frowned and looked up at Emma, who was staring at him. Waiting to see how he would react. Chuckling softly, Sherlock was in disbelief. "You are joking correct? John Watson's granddaughter sleeping with that pathetic waste of oxygen? Surely you can do much better." His voice began to rise near the end, no doubting that Daniel heard the last bit.

_"Oh, Lockey, I like it when you're jealous. It makes things fun."_ Marla, what wonderful timing. She balanced herself on the countertop. Her legs crossed and her head resting in her hands, and a cigarette naturally hanging from her lips. "Jesus Christ Marla go jump in the river. I have no need of your input right now."

Emma wasn't surprised at the mention of Marla, over the time she and Sherlock had been living together, she grew to recognize the signs of a Marla attack, as she liked to put it. Though with Marla attacks, Emma momentarily forgot their previous argument and rushed to where Sherlock was now sitting on the floor. Nearly every time Marla showed up, Emma had to coerce him back to reality."Sherlock, you just need to breathe okay? Just breathe. The only reason she showed up was because you are getting far to worked up. You need to calm down. Do you hear me Sherlock? Sherlock?"

His vision was getting hazy, and there seemed to be three Emma's. And her voice was echoing in his ears. All he could hear was his name on her lips, surrounded by Marla's laughter. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? Covering his ears he began to shutter, his entire body heaving against him, fighting for air. He was hyperventilating. Then there was nothing. Absolute bliss.

Sherlock's head was pounding. It felt as if his brain was pressing against his skull, threatening to paint the heavy walls around him. His vision was blurry and it was too bright. He squinted looking around, he saw a dim light bulb hanging low from the ceiling with apparent water damage, along with a grate to the upper floor. Maybe it lead to a street, he thought, gathering the conclusion from the sounds coming from above him. The walls around him were made of steel and he was chained to floor. His wrists had thick steel bracelets around them, with no seams, as if they grew from his skin. His ankles were the same way from what he could tell in his odd position. He was standing, arms chained to the walls closest to him, stretched almost to their limit. He couldn't see much behind himself, but according to his arms the walls were moving farther apart. He began to panic, his breathing was getting erratic. The muscles in his arms were being strained, he felt completely exhausted. Looking up once more he saw Marla, prancing about in front of him. Her heels were click-clacking on the tiled floor.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.  
She was standing in front of him now, her hands on he hips, her lips pouty and deep red from cheap lipstick. She began to hum, it would have been soothing if Sherlock didn't fear her presence.

"_I'm So happy. _

_Cuz today I've found my friends. _

_Their in my head."_

She began to hum the song again, either forgetting the words or skipping around to her favorite parts._  
_

_"I'm so horny but that's okay_

Giving Sherlock a teasing smile as she sung the word horny, she continued.

_My will is good."_

She stopped her singing, pressing her lips roughly to Sherlock's, she tasted of cheap alcohol and cigarettes, with a hint of a cherry lollipop. Placing her chipped painted nails, under Sherlock's chin forcing him to look into her eyes she said softly.

"_You know Lockey I've really started to like this song. Do you like it?" _

She began to laugh, she laughed as if it would be her last chance too. It was the laugh of a woman, too insane to continue but fighting contaminate others with her own madness. She knew this was her last chance to permanently end Sherlock Holmes. She had grown weak in the month Sherlock had been with Emma. She had been biding her time to end him along with herself. Marla's laughter was one of utter destruction. And it sent tremors down Sherlock's spine.

Sherlock, jerking his chin out of her grip bean to fight against the chains restraining him.

"Where the bloody hell am I Marla, why did you bring me here?"  
_"Sherlock! Language you naughty boy..."_ She began to giggle, playing with the buttons on his shirt... she traced each button with her finger until she reached his belt. She undid it quickly and gingerly knelt in front of him, teasing him.

Mumbling to himself, Sherlock grumbled softly "If this counts as masturbation, then _dear_ Daniel was wrong..."

_"Now Sherlock, could you really believe that I brought you here? Oh no, you brought yourself here. I just followed... figured you could use the...what the word? Company, body heat, feminine touch, or even...somebody to talk to..."_ She began kissing him again, tracing his veins along his body with her fingers. Laughing and smiling against his skin, her voice was rough, and shaky, yet quiet as she spoke.  
_"I Will Break You."_

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Sherlock awoke in a cold sweat, he noticed that his shirt was unbuttoned again, and his trousers were around his ankles. In confusion he raised one eyebrow, and looked around his room for anything else out of the ordinary. Trying to sit up he quickly stopped, his head felt like it was on fire. And not in a good way. "Emma! What the bloody hell is going on? Why am I undressed?"

He called out into the apartment, his voice was hollow and raspy, and his throat sore."EMMA!" He was getting impatient now, when he heard her tennis shoes squeaking on the wooden floor outside his door.

"I'm coming, just hold on a minute..." She froze as she opened to door and saw Sherlock undressed yet again, except this time, he thankfully had his pants on. "Why are you undressed?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow again in puzzlement, "What? You mean to tell me that you didn't do this? Hm, maybe Daniel?" He smiled softly at the look on Emma's face, it was one of hidden laughter, and was it longing? No of course not, his deduction skills must be unfocused due to passing out.

"What happened to me?" Emma, walked further into the room, sitting next to Sherlock, helping him get dressed, since it obviously pained him. "It was Marla again, you passed out and Danny and I carried you in here, you were mumbling to yourself, so I decided to just let you work it out. Don't give me that look, if you didn't wake up soon then I would have taken you to the hospitable...I have no idea how you managed getting your clothes off, especially since you can't even get them back on..." She trailed off, it seemed as if she was about to stroke Sherlock's curls out of his face but she stopped herself, smiling at him again she stood up. Straightening out her clothes, she avoided Sherlock gaze as she said to him in an almost motherly way.

"You really had me worried Sherlock, when did you last eat? Have you been taking care of yourself at all, or have you been waiting for me to force feed you?" Sherlock smiled sadly, not wanting to see her upset or worried about him. But he also couldn't lie to her. "The latter, I guess. It's just there's so much to do there is not enough time..."

She glared at him, her eyes hurt him, and so did her hand.

As his head began spinning again, she hissed at him. "Don't you dare give me that crap Sherlock! You built a damned time machine and you don't have enough time!" She lowered her voice near the end, giving Sherlock the impression that Daniel was still in the apartment. He was about to argue back, when she cut him off again. Her voice was soft, Sherlock could hear the tears stuck in her throat. Her voice cracked and she sniffled a bit.

"Your breaking yourself. Everyday, I see new cracks and it breaks my heart Sherlock. I mean hell you came here so as not to be bored! And here you are not even taking care of your health. Marla wasn't the only reason you passed out!"

Sherlock looked down guiltily, Emma having walked closer to the door was about to leave.

"Wait, Emma' he began to stand up, breathing heavily through his teeth, she turned around. Her short hair spiked up, her eyes glistening with tears, her lips turned down, and a slow tear was now trailing her cheek, she was leaning against the open door. Her gentle hands almost caressing it. She began to protest when she realized that Sherlock was trying to stand up, walking up to him she slipped her arms under his. Surprised when he wrapped his arms around her and dug his face into her shoulder. "I'm sorry." His voice was muffled by her shoulder, she could feel his legs shaking and the guilt in his voice. "I'm so sorry Emma, don't ever cry for me. Please. I'll do better I promise." Emma laughed then, it was a short laugh, one could say it was a laugh of disbelief. She smiled at him, and without saying a word helped him walk out of his room and into the kitchen to get him something to eat. Smiling he leaned on her, glad to have made her smile.

"Is Daniel still here?"  
"No, I sent him home after he helped me get you to your room, you need me more then he does."  
Sherlock smiled again, deciding he would never make her worry again, unless he absolutely had to.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

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**Okay, so there is a bit of, well, I want to call it anti-religious stuff. But it isn't really, its just I don't know. Some of you may find it offensive and for that I'm sorry, I guess. Religion isn't really my specialty. **

**So that's your warning there is religious stuff mentioned and talked about but I don't think it should be considered offensive, but if it does offend...sorry. So enjoy and please leave a review!**

April 27, 2014

"Sherlock, we have a new case! You know you should really consider putting the solved ones on the net. Get more clients that way. Plus, I wouldn't be getting so many damned calls."

Sherlock groaned in response, laying down on the couch in nothing but a T-shirt and sweats and a green bathrobe, twirling a knife on his right middle fingertip. Cursing whenever he nicked himself. Distractedly he answered her.

"I've told you I already have a case."

"Who? Kurt Cobain? Honestly Sherlock, ever since you started playing with my mobile, listening to my music-" she stopped short of babbling her opinions when Sherlock entered her view. "Really Sherlock, what is the point of that!"

Snatching the knife out of his hands he glared at her accordingly as she continued on about Kurt Cobain. "Your obsessed! You'd think reading a bunch of crap on the internet would bore you."

Placing the knife on the coffee table beside her, she placed her bags down as Sherlock, rushed to defend himself.

"I am not obsessed! And I have no idea what you mean, the clippings I find are not crap. Besides remember the Times magazine?"

Emma rolled her eyes, roaming around the flat putting her things down and taking off her shoes. His hands making big gestures as he spoke, unaware that Emma wasn't watching him he continued.

"There is no way a man that talented or successful would kill himself. I'm telling you it was his damned wife. And I'm going to prove it. Just you wait."

Walking back over towards Sherlock, she smirked at him. "Right and while I'm here waiting, why don't we solve this case? Yeah? Turn the telly on." Sherlock looked at her accusingly, as she walked in front of him.

"I thought you said you had case for me to solve. I won't solve one of your petty telly mysteries..." Emma rolled her eyes again and reached behind Sherlocks lazy form on the couch. Grabbing the clicker from under him, and turned on the telly. He sat up on the sofa, giving her room to sit next to him. Though she chose the chair nearest him, obviously not accepting the seat beside him.

Sherlock appearing to be frowning at the television, that was currently taking to long to boot up, stretched out his legs onto the coffee table.

Though the stern look from Emma, brought his long legs back to the floor. On the Telly there was a news report playing. A portly man, sweating through his make up, was retelling a news story that had most likely been repeated countless times in the last few hours. The newscaster in his neutral and planktonic voice read the story yet again.

* * *

"Three young boys who attended Crowned Stag High School, recently murdered, police are now beginning to think these deaths were the cause of a serial killer. We now go to a live interview with Police Chief Lerwick."

Sherlock looked over at Emma and every so subtly raised his eyebrow.

Grinning widely Emma ushered Sherlock to pay attention once a man in his late forties, with salt and pepper hair was shown on the screen. He was sitting behind a wooden table, with cheap blue paper covering it. The cameras focused on him, and there were many people asking questions all at once.

_"What is the motive?" _

_"How can people protect themselves?" _

_"Is there a connection between the boys?"_

_ "Why these victims?" _

_"Do you suspect any of the students or staff?" _

The man, Chief Lerwick, quickly settled things down and began to answer the surge if questions.

"People, please, calm yourselves. All your questions will be answered." He had an Irish accent that was calm and he obviously had a lot of experience with stubborn reporters.

"Now, with these murders we suspect there is a pattern. But seeing as they were all killed in different ways, it seems unlikely. These boys..."

"Emma quickly give me your mobile. Come on now."

Not asking questions Emma handed him her mobile, watching as he typed away at the keys. Turning her attention back to the Telly when she noticed that Lerwick had picked up his mobile, along with all the reporters. A few reporters asked their questions aloud.

_"Did we all just get that?"_

_ "All it says is wrong." _

Lerwick began speaking again. Looking up from his mobile in an almost dazed matter.

"Anyway, these boys, are connected, they all attended the same school. We believe that to be the only connection."

Again, Emma noticed Sherlocks insistent tapping. And again, every ones mobile appeared to go off on the telly again.

_"It says wrong again. Lerwick, could this be the murder?" _

_"What can we do to protect ourselves?"_

Lerwick was completely baffled. Still looking at his phone, he stood up and quickly left, the sound of shouting reporters following him.

* * *

Emma looking at the Telly, confused, and looked back at Sherlock still tapping away.

"How did you do that?"

Distractedly he answered her. "What the texting bit? Thought it up a while ago, bit of a blur the precise date, didn't really seem important to remember. Here look."

Showing her the mobile Emma read. 'You know how to find me. -SH' Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. Pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to fight off a headache. She had been doing that a lot lately.

"You do realize he was the one to contact me. We already had the job."

Getting defensive Sherlock spoke roughly to her. "Of course I realized, I'm not an idiot."

"All right, all right, no need to get you panties in a bunch."

Scowling towards her, Emma, uncaring toward his childish attitude curled her legs up to her chest and asked eagerly. "So...interesting right?"

Sherlock frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. "Well obviously I need to meet the parents, the friends." Motioning his hand in a sign continuation. Though he was still pouting, for reasons unknown to Emma, he had seemed less pouty when Lerwick was still on the telly.

'Maybe, she thought 'its just his time if the month.'

Hiding a giggle and resorting to an eye roll she was getting annoyed of how childish he was being

"I know that, you wouldn't honestly believe I would pick a case that you could solve just by watching a news report on the telly would you?"

Sherlock smiled. Then asked one final question."So, I take it we are working for the police now?" Emma smiled and nodded her head. "Those blokes could really use the help. And you are now the worlds first and only consulting detective."

Smiling mischievously, he quickly ran to his room and began changing. Yelling from his room. "Consulting Detective? Has a nice ring to it. Why don't I hear you moving? The game, Emma, is on! We need to get to the morgue!"

Emma smiled to herself, grabbing her shoes again, glad to see that he was finally getting excited over something other then insulting Daniel and making experiments in the kitchen. She shuddered at the thought of the last mess he had made while playing with the microwave.

* * *

"What do you see?"

"You're the detective, not me. What does it matter what I see?"

In the morgue of the North Kingston Hospital. Sherlock had just circled around the three tables, with three mutilated bodies, with a thin sheet coiled up at their ankles.

"An outside eye, a second opinion is very useful to me."

Sighing Emma began to inspect the bodies, voicing aloud everything she thought and saw.

"Well, the killer is experimenting. Each of them have different wounds, each a different method. Michael Alastiar found in the school gym. His eyes were gouged out, and it looks as if nails were embedded in his hands."

Walking toward the end of Michael's table, she pulled down the sheet and continued. "And his feet. Then there is his mutilated...penis."

Clearing her throat she continued again. "Along with the slits on his wrist, I assume that to be the cause of his death."

Looking up at Sherlock to see if she had done well, she moved to the next table, as Sherlock nodded for her to continue.

"Aaron Caddick, found in a public library. His tongue was removed and his index fingers. His stomach was obviously sliced open, and with the bruising on his ankles, he was hung upside down to bleed."

Without waiting for Sherlock's approval she moved to the next boy.

"Simon Williams, he was found in his car. His ears were cut off, and his frontal lobe is missing. His head was cut open, in order to do it."

Taking a breath she asked. "So, how did I do?"

Sherlock smiled, it almost seemed to be an impressed smile.

"Wonderful, except your missing everything important. The connections. They were each missing for three days."

Circling the bodies again, Emma watched as his brain worked.

"Ever hear of the phrase hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil? Really, I'm surprised you didn't catch that one. And then there is their names, obviously biblical-"

Emma interrupted him, "What do their names have to do with anything?"

Turning towards her, his hands held in a prayer like state again.

"Just give me a moment all your questions will be answered. Now, their names. Their names have something to do with how they were inflicted. Michael for instance, an archangel in Christian beliefs. I believe the phrase went 'who is perfect?; who is God?' And so off went his penis, no longer perfect anymore."

Emma walked toward Michael's body again, touching his hand. "But."

Sherlock holding his hand towards her stopped her from speaking.

"I know, the scars on his hands and feet, Jesus was hung on a cross and punctured the same way, funnily enough he rose again three days later. My guess is the killer strung him up, then slit his wrists."

Walking toward Aaron's table now he began to explain the connections. "

Now, Aaron was the older brother of Moses. He was a teacher, thus his index fingers were removed. Guess why?"

Emma was astonished, this was really the first time she had every seen him properly use his brain. It amazed her how excited he was. She even flustered a bit, trying to give him the right answer.

"Uh. Well, maybe because teachers point things out?" Back tracking herself she ended with a simple yet annoying answer for Sherlock. "I don't know."

"Yes! You do, you just said it, and for the record I hate the words 'I don't know'. Now I also think his tongue was removed not only for the speak no evil bit, but also for his name. The same may be true to the others, but I will need further knowledge of appearances and personalities."

Turning excitedly toward the final body. "Now, Simon here, he is the most exciting." Emma subtlety raised her eyebrows, she interrupted him before he even really began.

"The death of a boy is exciting to you? That was even worse then the 'funnily enough' comment."

Sherlock looked up from Simon, surprised that Emma's voice sounded so horrified. "It isn't exciting to you? Was that a bad thing to say?."

"It wasn't very good, Sherlock." Sighing Emma let him continue his deducing.

"Simon, the one that hears or obeys. He was beaten before, see the old bruising along his ribs? I'm guessing a parental figure put them there."

It was quite for a moment, Sherlock found no joy in old bruises.

Continuing softly "He removed the frontal lobe, it controls behavior. And his ears, well I don't think I need to explain that one."

Looking up from the bodies Sherlock practically skipped over to her, the entire little show was completely inappropriate for a morgue.

"Not only do we have a serial killer, but a religious one. A Christian, if my guess is correct." He smiled greedily. "They always have the strangest reasons."


End file.
